


Odd Job Merc

by RedRainz



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRainz/pseuds/RedRainz
Summary: Mercury Black was fresh in Vale and offering his own Odd Job services to the seedier clientele Vale had to offer.  He gets one particular job to do, and finds an unexpected customer on the other end of the deal.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Odd Job Merc

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posting this from FFnet.
> 
> If any of my dialogue choices sound weird, its because I wrote this with lots of swearing, then on a whim decided to get rid of all of it to make it more pg. I didn't come up with very vibrant words to replace the swears however, so some of it might feel a little weird or boring. Sorry about that.

Mercury was living life.

It was honestly pretty good.

Well, he didn’t necessarily think that life was amazing or anything.

But it had been quite a while since he got the tar beat out of him.

So.

That was definitely more pleasant than his previous life, which meant that this was light years ahead of that hell hole.

He was a self made man now. No one to look out for him, no one to care what he did, no one asking about his business.

It was just, Mercury Black. The son, now with no family and no purpose, getting by in the world by his own two hands.

And he wasn’t lonely, not even a little bit.

Lying on the top of a random convenience store, Mercury was wasting away a pleasant afternoon, thinking about clouds, what to have for dinner, and making guesses at the random bits of conversation he picked up from the street below.

A jingle alerted him to a possible change of plans.

With mild interest he checked to see an unfamiliar number before picking up his phone and answered off-

“Black’s jobs for hire, ain’t a job too black for Mercury Black.”

“You’ll do any job right?”

Straight to the point. Mercury liked that, appreciated that greatly with the amount of terrible clientele he got. The guy (and he was definitely male, with that deep raspy smoker’s voice he had) sounded like he could have been a middle aged, tired from life kinda person.

But without the prior history to set up a decent base of business, Mercury was constantly screening new clients every day. Most of them were soft, whiny rich kids who either lacked the moral backbone or cash to do a questionable job. Mercury was turning down offers left and right, which wasn’t good for his stagnant business.

Unfortunately that meant that recently he had gotten comfortable under a thick blanket under the scrutiny of the endless open night air. He was fortunate that the weather was nice this time of year, but much longer of this and he might have to find a tarp just to stay out of the rain.

“More or less. The slogan isn’t entirely literal, I still defer the right to decline any job before payment’s been made.”

And he had done that as well. Killer he may have once been, Mercury refused to be the brute for hire his father once was. If he was going to kill someone you better believe it was extremely personal.

“That’s fine, I’m not looking for anything dubious today.” There was a strangely bemused sound on the other line, or maybe it was exasperation? Either way, Mercury felt like this guy could be promising. He was a step up from the usual snowflakes he dealt with.

“I’m actually just looking for a delivery to be made?”

“Oh?” Now that was an interesting pitch if he ever heard one, it was definitely different. “if you’re just looking to get a pizza, I’d suggest calling them directly.”

“I’m just looking for someone to just pick up some stuff I left… In emerald forest.”

Mercury was unimpressed now, the guy didn’t even chuckle at his pizza joke.

He did not ask the client about what he was doing in emerald forest. There wasn’t many rules to doing shady business under the table, but either party asking about the business of the other was always forbidden.

The answers were usually illegal, or not for prying ears to overhear.

“Am I gonna need any special equipment?”

“Nah, it’s just enough stuff any one person could carry it. I was carrying it myself, before I had to drop it and go do something urgent. You got a license on you?”

And that was a loaded question for sure, even if it made sense considering the situation.

“May I ask who referred my services to you, sir?”

Deflection was always Mercury’s favorite part of the game. Both parties were fully aware that he wasn’t going to answer that particular question.

Rather than push the point, the other guy just sighed into the phone handle. “I got your number from Junior, he’s an informant of mine at the bar. Pretty sure you know him.” And that wasn’t necessarily an accusation or an alimony, just an acknowledgement of fact.

“I can hold my own against a pack of Grimm.”

“All right then kid. I heard you're up for a quick buck. And frankly you’d be doing me a favor by letting me avoid calling my harpy of a brother to do this instead.”

“Hmm.” Mercury hummed, the guys reasoning hardly held any water, but it honestly passed with flying colors compared to some of the shadier deals clients tried to make with him.

“Alright then. I’ll expect the payment to come to my direct account, and then for you to send me an address and a drop off time.”

Mercury got the impression the man appreciated his willingness to take the job, because his voice sounded a lot less tight than it did a minute ago. They made their deal quickly and he was hanging up not even two minutes later.

He considered the possibility of this being a set up. The guy apparently had Hunter grade equipment on him, and was also the curious type. In his line of work, no one asked about huntsmen licenses unless they were on the opposite side of the law.

But even if he was getting in a fight, it had been quite a while. He relished the opportunity to grind the rust off his prosthetics.

Besides, he had barely been set up in Vale for more than a month and a half at most. What were the odds he was already on a Hunter’s radar?

-

One short trek through a Grimm infested forest later, he found the goods.

Mercury was pleasantly surprised to see that it wasn’t a set up, or at least it hadn’t turned out to be one yet. There was definitely the gear, as described, sitting tucked away in an opening next to a large cave.

The gear was in fact Huntsmen grade stuff, the kind of things no one trusted a civilian to have on them. It was tucked away neatly, but still looked like it was discarded rather than left purposely. Either way it was a strange place to leave gear and Mercury was more than a little suspicious.

He reevaluated his opinion of the client while he listed off the things he picked up.

“One sturdy as hell shoulder brace, one leg brace.”

“Two belts, with an assortment of knives and dust vials.”

“Some ammo, high caliber rifle.”

“Some sort of gun, rifle sword thing.” This one was definitely a Huntsmen’s weapon, but he wasn’t sure how it worked. They were always complicated beyond belief and he didn’t need to know how it retracted and unfolded to form some silly axe.

Dad was always making fun of these types of things. He joked that the more complicated the folding mechanisms were, the more important they thought it made them look. Dad was a fan of the simplicity of a knife and blade, thank you very much.

The last one he picked up skeptically, wondering out loud to himself.

“A cape?”

The last item was beyond strange, even for Huntsmen standards. Mercury had literally never heard of anyone wearing a cape while fighting Grimm, and the mental image he got was just too silly to be true.

This caused him to look over the gear again to be sure he wasn’t getting his leg pulled, and he found something interesting.

Each of the tiny blades on his belt were nicked and had scratches up and down the sharp ends o the blade. They definitely saw use, but not the kind he had expected.

A Grimm wouldn’t leave a scratch, it would have entirely demolished the blade or it wouldn’t have clashed with its claws at all.

That meant that they were used against human another human, blade on blade.

“Huh, this guy is getting more interesting by the minute.”

…

“That or he’s some kind of nutter who think’s he’s batman.”

Well, nutter or not he had been paid and had a job to do. Mercury may not be an assassin anymore but he was still a professional. And to break a contract was bad business.

Bad business was a stain on the soul for any professional.

“Well, the guy must have been in a hurry.”

And that was an understatement, if he left his weapon and dust behind to do his business. He had no idea what he was doing, but he wondered if he had been in a fight with a Grimm before getting smart and ditching the stupid cape.

The thought made him grin, imagining a silly rendition of batman flinging off his suit to hunt a large ursa deeper into the forest. Dropping belts and weapons and going full commando with a knife between his teeth.

‘This fight is personal now, bub.’

Mercury laughed his whole way back to the city.

-

Mercury was waiting around for the pickup time when he had gotten bored. Curiosity was a hard nut to cure and he couldn’t help himself from checking out the Huntsmen weapon now that he had time to.

It was heavy, almost ridiculously so. The sheath was all black, with a dark red handle peaking out. Pulling it out, he was surprised to see a broad grey sword being supported by the thin red handle. It was a bit hard to wield and the weight of it was almost too much to swing with one hand.

He played with the weapon for a moment, appreciating the detail and battle scars running up and down the blade. Clearly a seasoned warrior, if the deep nicks and cared for scratches meant anything. This one had definitely seen its fair share of fights with the creatures of Grimm.

He played with the handle for a second, looking for some hidden mechanism. He played with it until a gear shifted and suddenly the whole thing started unfolding and elongating, the blade falling away and the handle becoming longer and longer until-

Mercury was holding a giant metal scythe that only the grim reaper could have used. His eyes bulged out of his skull, noting how stupid cool the silvery and black blade was.

Now he was no craftsman, but he was highly aware of what a blade could do to a person. And he could tell with one look that with a blade like this, and a reach that far? Limbs would go flying with ease if wielded by a strong killer.

Something struck him as odd about the weapon, and a tickle in the back of his skull made him think that he might have recognized it for some reason.

But Mercury had left paranoia at the door when he killed his old man, so he shrugged his shoulders and looked again at the array of gear he had on him.

A thought struck him, and the grin on his face was positively smug.

Flourishing the thing with one hand, the other went to fasten belts around his waste. He made sure they crossed each other and overlapped, to be exceedingly unnecessary looking. Then, he fished out the cape and fastened it around his shoulders. Then, he rolled up his pants legs to complete the look.

Now grinning like a child, he twirled the whole thing around and sprinted to put his scroll down. Turning it up, he made sure to pose before the shutter went off.

And when he looked at himself he couldn’t help but laugh. It was really ridiculous, huge scythe and matching cape flowing behind him. Large belts like an anime character around his waste, and to top it all off his metallic and shiny prosthetics glowing with a dull whirl underneath.

He looked like some kind of steam punk reaper OC that only nerds at anime conventions would cosplay as.

He laughed hard and long, and silently thanked the guys ridiculous sense of fashion.

-

Mercury had a better inkling now why the guy had asked him if he had a license on him. In any normal circumstance he would be stopped way before he could enter Vale with this amount of crazy gear on him.

So he went in a back way, like any self-respecting assassins son would do.

Finding his way from one street to the next without meeting unwanted attention, he made it to the area for the drop-off quite easily.

Just as he was told, he spotted the grey hoodie that denoted the client he was meeting up with quite easily. The whole alley was off the main street so there wasn’t any likely onlookers. Despite it being midday the alley was a bit dark due to the closed off structure of the neighboring buildings, making this the perfect place for a seedy transfer.

Even with the air of seriousness surrounding the two, Mercury had trouble keeping his professional composure. He had felt like he learned a lot about this guy in the last two hours, and honestly it was hard to take a guy who would wear a cape seriously.

Despite all that, he couldn’t help but shake the thought that there was something significant he was supposed to remember with this scythe though.

The guy saw him as he walked up, grunted and pushed off the wall. He wasn’t much taller than Mercury, but he sounded even older in person. “Thanks kid, you really saved my rear with this one.”

Mercury nodded, still holding back his thoughts. That burning feeling that he should know something about this guy would not go away, in fact it just kept getting worse.

“So uh, was there any other reason you wanted to use my services old man?”

A pause.

“Well, I guess I wanted to check you out. I’m a bit of a rumor hunter, and I was interested when I heard there was a kid taking jobs to beat up high profile thugs.”

A sudden warning bell went off, something was definitely wrong here. Mercury was remembering what paranoia felt like for the first time in months. And it was as he was handing large Grimm slaying scythe over that he noticed peeking from under the hood bright, vibrant red eyes and black hair.

Black hair, with red eyes, and a scythe.

Mercury’s brain did a flip and ground to a halt.

“You’re Qrow Branwen.”

A statement. Spoken so directly and flatly that the man in question didn’t have any reaction to it. And it wasn’t necessarily a secret identity or anything, Huntsmen names and faces were often times public knowledge.

Mercury just happened to know a lot about this particular Huntsmen.

“Yeah, that’s right kid-“

And he was gone. Running like he hadn’t even dared to in years, sprinting with fervor he reserved to his dad’s worst days.

He cleared the alley and was running through a main street in a matter of seconds, metallic feet working like an engine. Onlookers had their eyes bug out of their heads at his speed and swiftness, watching a silver bullet tear down the sidewalk.

Mercury hadn’t thought about what he did, what he was doing. He just knew an instinctual feeling that he hadn’t thought of in a long time, since before coming to Vale.

Mercury felt fear, and he reacted.

He was already looking for a decent alley to duck into, wary of the authorities and whatever other Huntsmen Vale had to offer.

-

Qrow had dismissed the frankly punk looking kid who had showed up to deliver the gear. He had heard about him through word of mouth, but thought nothing much. After all, under Ozpin’s guidance Vale was not unused to questionable kids running around Vale proper looking for trouble. His own niece was known to blow up a nightclub or two on occasion.

But run of the mill punk kids didn’t just book it down the street the moment they recognized a Huntsmen.

And frankly he was a little pissed that the turd didn’t even have the decency to wait for his response before taking off.

One moment he was handing over his gear, not a speck of trepidation. Then he said his name, like commenting on the wether. It was composed, and bereft of feeling. That’s why Qrow didn’t look up until halfway through his response, having already dismissed the frankly punk looking kid that had come to deliver the goods.

The little delinquent was gone.

Somewhere between recognition and response, the kids fight or flight instincts had already carried him half way down the alley and almost into the street.

He stared dumbfounded after the silver haired thug while he booked it for all he was worth.

Kids these days seemed to get worse every generation. It’s like a lifetime of tv and internet had made them forget how to be polite, or how to respect their elders. He cursed Ozpin, for letting Vale become a literal beacon for unfortunate kids who needed a proper scolding.

So like a responsible adult, he took off after him.

The kid was fast, but Qrow was a trained and active Hunter. There was no way he would lose in a footrace to a punk kid.

It was close however, if the kid had gotten any more of a head start he may have lost him.

But Qrow was playing in these streets for years, and with a few twist and turns he had the kid cornered against a dead end. Taking his chance when he saw it, he had already drawn his scythe and was using it to close him in against a wall.

Cool gray eyes regarded him, betraying nothing of the panic he assumed the kid was feeling right then.

“Thanks for giving back the gear kid.” And Qrow, crotchety old Hunter he was, couldn’t help a good satisfying poke in the ribs when life gave him one. He smirked, and could feel his desire to cuss him out as his eyes slid to the returned scythe and then back to him again.

“Now then, why don’t you tell me who you are punk.”

-

Mercury fought down his anxiety and fear. Somewhere, his brain was telling him his goose was cooked.

The more rational and trained part of him schooled his features, and pushed that other stupidly erratic part to the back of his mind. He knew, logically, that he hadn’t done anything he could be booked for. In Vale at least.

But Mercury wasn’t a fool and he would be the first to admit that he did a lot of terrible things before Vale. He had been in too deep years ago, and by the time he finally made it away from his father his hands were more than just dipped in blood.

His father had known Qrow. May have had some personal run-ins with him too, if the things he said were anything to go by.

So that’s how Mercury knew that Qrow Branwen was literally the last person he wanted to be mixed up with, being the Huntsmen most directly under Ozpin himself. And revealing himself as the cold blooded killer he was could quite literally end his new found life right then and there on the spot.

His father might have told him about Qrow, but he never mentioned how deadly the scythe was. A man like that could kill Mercury right in that god forsaken alleyway.

So, terrified but still trying to keep his cool, Mercury could only think of one thing to do.

He opened his stupid mouth.

“I could tell you who I’m not, for sure.”

Mercury was surprised at his own audacity, while Qrow’s eyes seemed to almost sag somehow.

“And who’s that.”

Ah. Mercury could almost hear the way Qrow was already quietly exasperated.

He didn’t grin, but he definitely had a sudden feeling of smug cockiness well up in the pit of his stomach, helping to dissipate some of the fear.

“I’m not someone you should worry about, for sure.”

“And pray tell, why is that.”

“Because I’m not going to report you.”

Now he looked a bit surprised. “Report me? For what!”

“I won’t report you to the fashion police.”

Oh joy, Mercury could quite literally see the fall of Qrow’s face as he seemed to realize just what kind of kid he was talking to.

“God kid, do you even know how many times I-“

“Like seriously, a cape?” Mercury couldn’t help the vain feeling of satisfaction he got for cutting the Huntsmen off. He could literally see himself getting under his skin by the second. “What kind of action hero are you supposed to be? Let me guess, you got some spandex lying in your closet too?”

The guy growled, like literally used his gravelly voice to growl at Mercury. “I’ve been wearing it longer than you could walk punk. It’s my signature, and everyone knows it looks cool.”

“Maybe if I was into cosplay.”

“I’m not a stupid cosplayer kid-“

“I mean with a cape like that you should try it.” And he was frowning deeper now, being cut off a second time. He rubbed it in with a rather obnoxious grin. “I certainly did.”

Tired eyes got sharp and looked at Mercury with a piercing look.

“What are you talking about punk.”

Mercury might have been a trained assassin, but he was still a cocky teen. So with all the smugness he had in him, he pulled out his phone and walked straight up to Qrow. Despite his nerves telling him he was way too close, he just couldn’t help it.

“Check it.”

And, zooming in a bit to hide the legs, Mercury showed him the picture he had taken just that afternoon. Incriminating red cape held to the side while he made a Dracula pose with his oversized scythe resting over his shoulder.

Saying that Mercury didn’t look ridiculous would be a lie.

“And, if I look like that, makes ya wonder what you look like, am I right old man?”

The look Qrow gave him wasn’t unlike his father’s look whenever he gave him too much mouth. But Qrow lacked that edge of danger and instead communicated a quiet promise of ‘I hate you and I’m going to find some way to get even.’

Finally Qrow had enough and stepped back, giving him that tired irritated look again.

“Disrespectful little turds, can’t even respect a Huntsmen’s duds anymore.”

“All right fine smart one.”

And then he pointed a finger in Mercury’s direction.

“I’ve had a long day and I don’t really want to deal with another run of the mill punk walking Vale’s streets. I’m going to give you like, a minute to tell me why I shouldn’t march your sorry butt back to Ozpin’s office and make sure they know just what kinds of side gigs you’ve been up to. I hear Glynda’s disciplines are always painful.”

With that threat he started taking a flask out of some hidden pocket, giving Mercury an expectant look that said ‘give me a reason to make you sorry kid.’

Mercury realized, all of a sudden, that he must look like a student from Beacon.

“Ew, like hell I’m going to Beacon you old fart. School would cramp my style way too much.”

And despite having been literally hand delivered a safe alibi from the old crotchety Huntsmen, Mercury couldn’t help the shiver of revulsion at the thought of being a goody two shoes Beacon kid. Sure, he had turned over a new leaf. But like hell did he want to have to play with those snowflakes at the academy. He’d go back to his old life before he pulled his punches with those children and sang kiddie songs.

“Yeah okay, don’t lie to me punk. Let’s just go get this over with and I’ll drop you off in the detention room-“

“I’m serious though, I’m not a student.”

And, possibly Qrow believed him this time because he stopped. He gave a very exasperated sigh, as though Mercury was making his day so much harder.

Then he pulled out his scroll and pulled up some kind of list. He began scrolling through names very quickly, and when he reached the B’s-

He stopped. Noticing a hole where he assumed Mercury Black would go.

“Is that the student registry for Beacon? Like come on old man, you and I both know thats insanely creepy that you-“

“You’re actually not here.” He cut him off with that declaration. Mercury was about to say ‘yeah, duh’ before Qrow kept talking.

“Vale is a literally hotspot for turd eating kids like you every year, but they all go to Beacon. Oz literally named the stupid school because of troubled kids like you.” He looked at Mercury and shook his head. Something told Mercury he was thinking this was all a lot more trouble then it was worth.

“Hahhh, all right then. So, Mercury Black. What the hell are you doing in Vale?”

Mercury thought about what to say, before shrugging and just going with the flow. He told him the truth about Beacon, and that was the first thing that seemed to be going in his favor. So he just figured, to hell with it.

He’d just answer exactly what he asked for.

…

“The hell do you mean you don’t have an address?”

…

“So why exactly, do you not want to be a Huntsmen?”

…

“Killing Grimm pays fine! It’s a very respectable living! Plenty of people make a living doing it!”

…

“No, my mom didn’t have a thing for birds. Qrow is a freaking cool name punk.”

…

“No, you’re definitely not allowed to do that in the CCT”

…

“Where’s your family kid?”

“Don’t got any.”

And that one was a slap in the face. Qrow should have expected that answer, but the speed and neutral expression he answered in gave the Huntsmen pause.

The kid was infuriating if he did say so himself. At first it felt like he was being purposely misleading, but over time he realized the delinquent was just being honest. His story just didn’t make sense.

He didn’t live in Vale, but he knew a lot about its infrastructure. He knew Junior, but wasn’t one of his employees. He didn’t want to be a Huntsmen but he could slay Grimm.

And he had apparently been living outside the kingdoms until two months ago, but didn’t have any family.

“What happened to them?”

“My dad died when my house burned down.”

Qrow nodded, but didn’t ask for elaboration. Life outside the kingdoms was brutal for any family.

“And the rest?”

“Never knew them.”

So, he was raised by his father between kingdoms. He probably trained him too, and after he died recently he came to Vale.

Qrow groaned inwardly, a small pit in his stomach tugging at a few of his heartstrings.

Kid was a class act charity case if he ever heard one. Would fit right in with some of the other charity cases at Beacon, but apparently was too prideful to take an easy second chance in life.

Although, with the things he did for Oz these days he couldn’t blame him.

“Fine kid, you got anyone you can rely on in Vale? Any solid connections you made?”

The kid stopped and thought for a moment, before coming up empty.

“Nah, just some casual clientele that ask for the same dumb jobs. I don’t need anybody looking out for me, but I also don’t have any contacts.”

Well, that was a shady way to say that if he had ever heard one.

But regardless Qrow had already made up his mind on this case. His conviction was firm, and he believed in his decision.

“All right punk. Your attitude makes me want to vomit, and you need a lesson in how to respect your elders. I think I know just what to do with a punk like you.”

-

Hours later, Mercury sat alone.

This was his life now. Being alone and doing nothing while feeling lonely.

In some ways it kind of felt like his old life, except he didn’t fear his father returning. He just feared the next day, and what new emotions it would bring too.

Mercury was beginning to realize that trying to navigate this world alone was a form of suffering his father had never prepared him for.

Well, he supposes he didn’t have to worry too much about that anymore.

It felt a bit hollow, to say that. It was like he had earned his first real victory in life only to have it crumble in his hands. Like, even if he had snatched back his freedom he wasn’t able to do anything by himself.

So, Mercury sat alone, and wondered about what would come next.

He thought about his father. Heavy hands, and a raging alcoholic who didn’t go down easy. His home nothing but a shabby cabin he built himself. It burned easily.

And as he thought about what his life used to be, and what his life was now, and had difficulty seeing the upside beyond ‘no longer being beaten like a dog’.

A day ago he had thought he had been living it pretty good these past two months. But now he wondered about all of that. His earlier conversation with Qrow came to mind.

“Listen here you little criminal. I’m a cool, strong, and dashing big time Huntsmen.”

And his hand twitched, but he made sure not to touch the cape. He didn’t need to prove that point.

“I frankly don’t have any time to deal with stupid punk kids like you.”

And, that was the point Mercury expected him to arrest him and drop him off with the police. They would dig up what they could and slam him for anything, and investigations would find out about his father somehow and he would be so screwed-

And he was handing him a handful of lien.

“This is for the job.” Red eyes considered him longer then, not hiding their curiosity. “I got another job you can do for me tomorrow. You up for it?”

And Mercury, stunned beyond belief, could only nod.

“Good. Tell Junior you want to stay in his upstairs apartments tonight, I know for a fact he has rooms to spare.”

Mercury was just gaping at him, dumbfounded and not sure what to do.

“You’ve been dealt a bad hand in life. Trust me, I get it.” And those eyes didn’t bleed pity and yet Mercury felt small with the way he spoke to him.

“You can spend your days crawling the streets, like a common thug with no greater purpose. Alone, standing on your own two feet. Or, you can answer my call tomorrow, and I’ll give you something better to do.”

He sighs, long and withering. “A friend of mine would say something about potential and fairytales, but I’m not into that crap. But I can offer you a hand.”

And whether he realized how corny it was or not, he extended a hand out to Mercury.

Mercury, on the other hand. Was still too paralyzed with unknown emotions to do anything but gawk.

“Whadya say kid? You wanna do some jobs for me? Odd job Black.”

So, that was how Mercury found himself alone. Not in the slammer, not in chains, not being shipped outa Vale, but just alone with his thoughts.

He stared at the contact on his scroll, and considered everything Qrow had offered him.

He knew, instinctually, that this was something he wanted. To be needed, to have a job to do, and to have someone to rely on. Someone looking out for him.

He didn’t know as much about Qrow as he thought he did, but Marcus never truly knew someone outside of their professional setting. But any Huntsmen who offered a stupid kid like him a second chance couldn’t be all that bad.

A slight nugget of fear wormed its way into his heart, wondering if he was deserving. If Qrow would have still offered him redemption if he knew the things he done.

Knew how dirty his hands were.

But Mercury had come too far in life to turn down any helping hand at this point.

So with a smug grin and a whole lifetime of being an annoying brat to make up for, Mercury opened up the contact on his scroll. With a few sniggers and a couple of button presses, he thought about the face Qrow would make when he found out.

Staring back at him, the new contact read “Sugar Daddy.”

“Wonder if I should introduce myself as his ‘sugar baby’ tomorrow, or would it be funnier if I called him daddy first?”

Mercury was very much looking forward to his new partnership.


End file.
